


Fear Of Fate

by JamOnToast



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Awkward People Being Awkward, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Other, Overprotective BAU, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates, gender neutral reader, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24950899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamOnToast/pseuds/JamOnToast
Summary: In a world where soulmates are commonplace but never guaranteed, Reader works at the FBI but has never met the BAU (except Penelope), when Y/N discovers a cold case that seems to link to a new one, Garcia forces them to meet the team, letting Y/N discover something else too.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 26
Kudos: 195





	1. Can You Hear Me?

**Author's Note:**

> This starts in mid-season 11/February 2016.  
> Soulmate trope = you can't hear your soulmate speak until after you kiss them.
> 
> Cross-posted on my tumblr pumpkin-stars

Garcia grinned at you across the table as you sat in your favourite coffee shop (which also happened to be the nearest one to the FBI Headquarters), the Technical Analyst listening intently as you spoke enthusiastically about your latest discovery. You were a researcher at the bureau, and had spent the last eight years in a musty archive working through boxes and boxes of old case files, digitising them to make any future researcher’s jobs easier - there was no way you would finish it all in your lifetime, even with the help of a small team. There were three of you: Y/N Y/L/N as the head archivist, then Roberta Flores (who could - and would - kill anyone if they called her anything other than Bobby), and James Brody (who didn’t mind what you called him so long as you weren’t yelling at him for doing something wrong).  
The three of you had spent the last week going through files from the BAU’s early days - those cases that were so old that there wasn’t much need to digitise them because nobody ever needed a reference from them… But you had found something odd - there was a document which reported a murder case in 1986, with an MO eerily similar to another they had found some months beforehand relating to a case from 1996 (and upon a quick database search, another unsolved murder from 2006), and, knowing Garcia’s position on the team, Y/N had approached her to ask what to do.  
Penelope nodded along, thankful that Y/N was sparing her the gory details of the cases - you were fully aware of her aversion to anything that wasn’t cute and fluffy. “I can talk to Hotch.” She nodded, “He’ll probably want to talk to you too, though. You can finally meet the team!”  
“I don’t need to meet them, Penelope.” You shook your head, losing their enthusiasm “Really, I’m… content just being at the other end of the phone or an email.”  
“But you’re my friend, and they’re my friends,” She protested, “Please? I know they’ll like you.”  
“Even after I tell them they’ve worked three connected cases in thirty years without realising it? That, if the pattern continues, there should be another one this year? This month?”  
“Especially then! Trust me.” Garcia assured, “Besides, Derek’s been wanting to meet you ever since he stole one of those brownies you baked me last year.”  
You sighed, “Okay.”  
“If you’re nervous, just bring more brownies. Bribe them into liking you.”  
“Okay.”  
~~~  
“You know, statistically, only 33% of people ever find their soulmates, and as 42% of our team already have, the odds that the other four of us will are remarkably low.”  
Reid was explaining as Garcia led you through the bullpen, ignoring Derek’s curious gaze. You were far too busy looking around the room to pay any attention to specific noises, the open bustling space so different to your own small office which backed onto rows and rows of dusty boxes and filing cabinets.  
“I thought everyone just had a 33% chance?” JJ frowned, “It’s not dependent on other people’s success.”  
Spencer shrugged. He’d resigned himself to never finding his soulmate, and he knew Morgan and JJ wouldn’t understand, having been lucky enough to find theirs already. A 33% chance of finding that one in 7.4 billion was still a good chance, he knew - 2.5 billion people would, on average, be able to find their soulmates at some point… But after everything… he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He’d never been good with romance, never known how to act around people he found attractive (part of the reason he was so awkward at work for the first few years), and he knew if he found his soulmate… they were supposed to be the perfect match… they would connect on such a level that any awkwardness would disappear, but… to get to that connection, knowing he would have to build up the courage to kiss whoever it happened to be… and whoever it was would be attractive in some way and he would be so awkward around them that he wouldn’t know where to start in getting to know them, let alone kissing them… He dreaded ever finding his soulmate. Even though he usually loved statistics, that 33% chance hung over him… It still meant a 67% chance he’d never find them, but that wasn’t enough to stop him worrying… If he fudged the numbers in his head, suggested that his friends being happy meant it was less likely that he would find whoever, then that was a comfort… As much as he wanted love and happiness… he was terrified of finding it, of getting to the point where he could accept it and live with it… Finding a soulmate was no guarantee of living a whole life together.  
When Hotch met Haley, he was already a confident guy… He’d stumbled into the wrong room at college and tried to apologise but she hadn’t heard… They’d kissed a few days later after a silent coffee date… and Hotch still had the notebook they’d written in to get to know each other, he kept it with him at all times… It was his one source of comfort, and had been since long before Foyet had come along.  
When JJ had met Will during a case, gone to introduce herself to him, she’d already known they were soulmates… There was an awkward phone call preceding their meeting where neither could hear the other… They’d kissed almost right away, just to make the case go smoother, and then had got to know each other quite quickly afterwards.  
Morgan and Savannah had been a fun story… They’d met at a club and the music was too loud to hear each other, so they’d gone outside to chat, intending to be nothing more than a one-night bed warmer… only to discover they couldn’t hear anyway… He’d kissed her right there.  
All three of them had found their soulmates, and had been able to act on it easily… They’d known what to do, they’d been confident in their ability to be a good soulmate, to… to love and be loved.  
But Spencer was constantly nervous about it.  
Meeting new people always came with a sense of relief that he could hear their hellos… He didn’t know how he’d react if he ever met his soulmate, but a part of him was sure that he’d be sick or run away.  
~~~  
“Come in.” Hotch’s voice came through his door, and you followed after Garcia, stepping into the intimidating Unit Chief’s office, three folders grasped tightly in your hands. You took a steadying breath before greeting the older agent with a nod, sitting across from him as he offered you a seat. “Garcia tells me you may have found a case?”  
“Yes, sir.” You nodded, glancing at your friend for reassurance. She nodded encouragingly, and you passed the files to Hotch, “A different case every ten years, but with the same MO, I don’t really know if it’s anything - the three victims are in different states, but… they’re all twenty four year old redheads. You, um… you consulted on the last two yourself, Agent Hotchner. And Agent Rossi on the first.”  
Hotch frowned as he read through the files, “I remember.” He looked up, “You think they’re connected?”  
“I don’t know, Sir. The um,” you cleared your throat, “The victims were all high risk targets, reported missing less than twenty four hours before they were found, all wearing clothes they didn’t own. I know it’s unlikely, there’s… three murders in thirty years… but-”  
“If there is something, and there’s a pattern then the Unsub will kill again this year.” Hotch finished.  
You nodded. “This month, most likely. They were all in February.”  
“Thank you, Agent Y/L/N.” He closed the files, “If you could dig out the rest of the old case files, I’d like to present this to the team. Garcia, can you check VICAP for any similar murders that we weren’t consulted on?”  
“On it.” She nodded.  
~~~  
James and Bobby watched you silently as you moved through the stacks of boxes, bringing two back into the office and setting them down heavily next to your desk before diving into the database, setting the printer off as you collected the information from the 2006 murder.  
Checking your email, you found one from Garcia, where she had flagged another case from 1976, with the same MO and victimology, again in another state - now you had cases in North Dakota, Minnesota, Iowa, and Illinois… You weren’t a profiler, but even you could tell that the Unsub was slowly making his way South East across the country, and the next murder (if there was one), would most likely occur in either Indiana or Kentucky.  
As you made your way through the archive to search for the ‘76 files, you heard the phone ring, the echoing corridors allowing Bobby’s voice to travel to you no matter how far you went.  
“Archives department, Agent Flores speaking.”  
Spencer held back a sigh of relief as he heard the agent on the other end of the phone, “Hi, this is Doctor Spencer Reid with the BAU, I believe Agent Y/L/N is collecting some files for us.”  
“Yeah, they’re putting them together right now.”  
“I’ve been told to come down and help bring them up, is that okay?”  
“Of course, we don’t normally get field agents down here, you’ll be a welcome distraction.”  
“I’ll head down there now.” He frowned, hanging up.  
“Distraction?” You wondered, carrying the last box back.  
“Some BAU guy’s coming down to help you move those boxes.” Bobby informed you.  
“They do realise we have a trolley and an elevator?” James huffed.  
“Most of them have never been down here,” You pointed out, “I’d say 60% of Agents don’t even know we exist, let alone where to find us.” You headed to the printer, collecting the ‘06 files and putting them into a spare box as someone knocked, a skinny guy poking his head around the door a moment later  
“You Reid?” Bobby checked. He nodded.  
“You don’t look like a field agent.” James eyed him.  
You shook your head at him, drawing the man’s attention. You pointed to two of the boxes, prompting him to take them before you grabbed the Archival Materials Signed Out form for Hotch to sign, putting it on top of the two boxes you were carrying. James rushed to open the door for you both, waving you off with a grin. You rode the elevator with Reid in silence, sending awkward smiles his way when you caught each other’s eye.  
When you reached the BAU’s floor, Reid led you straight to the briefing room, dropping his boxes on the round table. You followed his lead, keeping the form for Hotch to sign, turning to go and give it to him, but stopping short as he entered.  
“Agent Y/L/N, I’d like you to stay for the briefing, you’re the one who connected these, after all.”  
You nodded, moving to the side, perching on a table near the door, watching as the rest of the BAU team entered and took their seats, none batting an eye as Reid started reading through all the files at lightning speed. Garcia sent you an encouraging smile as she took her place by the projector.  
“Every ten years since 1976, a young redheaded woman has been reported missing and then been found between sixteen and twenty-two hours afterwards, wearing clothes that aren’t her own, and multiple stab wounds to the abdomen.” Garcia introduced the case, displaying images of the victims.  
“Ten years?” Morgan frowned, “I remember something in 2006, uh, Victoria, or something?”  
“Veronica Travers.” You corrected lightly, drawing the team’s attention - all but Reid.  
“You are?” Rossi wondered, Reid glanced up at him.  
“Agent Y/N Y/L/N. Archives department.”  
“Y/N found the ‘86, ‘96, and ‘06 case files, and realised they were similar.” Garcia explained.  
“I looked through them briefly,” Hotch continued, “There’s definitely a case here. I just wish we’d spotted it sooner.”  
“Is there another victim yet?” Reid asked him suddenly.  
“Not yet.”  
The form fell from your hands, the single sheet of paper catching the air and drifting a few feet away before it landed on the carpet.  
“Y/N?” Garcia frowned at you, making everyone look at you.  
You swallowed hard, staring at Reid, “Can you hear me?” You asked.  
He frowned, glancing at the rest of the team.  
“Can you hear them, Pretty Boy?” Morgan asked.  
Reid blinked, locking eyes with you, “Can you hear me?” He repeated your question.  
All the breath left you - you saw his mouth move, you saw the reactions of the other agents… saw them smiling at you both hopefully…  
But this wasn’t a hopeful situation.  
With one last look at Reid and a panicked glance to Penelope, you turned and fled the room, leaving a rather nauseated soulmate behind.


	2. 4,800,000

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N and Spencer deal with other people’s opinions and their own complicated feelings about soulmates

“The hell was that?” Morgan stared at the open doorway you had fled through, “Reid?”

Spencer stayed silent, staring at a spot on the carpet, barely holding himself back from vomiting in the nearest trash can. He almost laughed - he’d been sure that whenever he met you he would end up running or being sick, and if your face had given anything away to him (really, it had given everything away) then you had run off in order to be sick… And left him sitting in a room with his friends - his family - standing around him, all extremely confused.

“Spence?” JJ frowned, “Are you alright?”

He stayed silent again. Breathing heavily.

“I’m gonna-” Garcia pointed to the door, “I should-”

“Go.” Hotch instructed with a nod, knowing the importance of soulmates, and how an unconventional reaction like this could harm both Spencer and Y/N in the long run.

~

Garcia found you on the stairs, about three floors down, breathing heavily, slumped against the wall. “Oh, sweetie…” She cooed, “C’mon, it’s okay.”

“How is it okay?” You croaked, “He’s my soulmate, Penelope. You know I never wanted to find him.”

“You never said why, I thought it was just nerves, or-”

You huffed, blinking back tears, “My parents…”

“What?”

“They were soulmates, they… they were happy.”

“Okay?” She frowned, not understanding you.

“When I was six, my mother walked out on us. She said she didn’t love my dad anymore.” You stared at Garcia, “They were soulmates, and they fell out of love. She… she gave up and she walked away - for another man’s dick.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah, so, forgive me, if I don’t want to go through that myself.”

“Spencer would never-”

“You don’t know that.” You huffed, “You can’t know that, because he’s never had a soulmate before. Am I… Am I supposed to believe that the universe one day decided that this man, who I’ve never met before today despite working in the same building for eight years, is supposed to be my true love and we’re perfect for each other, and we’ll get married, maybe have a child, and be happy ever after? How can I believe that when I know it doesn’t last?”

“It won’t even start if you don’t give it a chance.” She pointed out.

“Good.” You nodded, steeling yourself before you stood, continuing down the stairs, “I’ve avoided him for eight years, I can keep going.”

“Y/N…”

“No.” You stopped her, “I never asked for this. I just… I wanted to help you guys solve some murders, not meet my fucking soulmate.”

“Okay.” She nodded, watching you go.

~~~

Spencer had managed to move from his seat at the table without being sick, grabbing the form you had dropped and handing it to Hotch, “You should fill that in.” He mumbled, his eyes unfocused, his body just going through the motions as his mind raced.

He was in the 33%.

He should be happy.

He could tell the rest of the team was thinking it, they were waiting for him to rush off after you and kiss you til you couldn’t breathe… but they had missed the look in your eyes as you’d stared at him… He’d seen your fear and your reluctance to be around him… The team had also missed his relieved sigh as you bolted, the few that caught it probably putting it down to shock.

He turned back to the boxes on the table, pulling out a file from the ‘96 case, sitting down again, trying to force his brain to focus. But he kept running the numbers.

99% of people who found their soulmates would get married, 64% would have children (either biologically or through adoption), and 48% of soulmates somehow managed to live their whole lives together, dying of old age.

But there was still that 1%…

Of course, marriage wasn’t for everyone, and the majority of that 1% simply chose not to be, but still lived together… but that still left 0.2% of soulmates who didn’t want to marry, or didn’t want to share a home, or start a family. Four million, eight hundred thousand. The approximate population of the state of Alabama.

Four million, eight hundred thousand soulmates who rejected their partners and their fates, worldwide.

0.06% of the world’s population.

Not much, but a significant amount…

Spencer never thought he’d be one of them… but his doubts and his aversion to finding you probably should have clued him into the fact that he would be. Or that you would be…

You were made for each other, or… your atoms were close to each other when the universe began, or… some unknown deity randomly decided to tie you together on a whim…

Of course you’d reject him.

He’d been terrified, his entire life… He’d never wanted to find you, he imagined you’d never wanted to find him… But now you had. You were both in the 33%, 2 out of 2.4 billion people… He never wanted to find you because he was terrified of losing you.

You were one of the 0.06%, that much was obvious.

But now that he’d met you, now that he knew you existed, and he knew where to find you… He thought… His whole life he’d thought being in the 67% would be for the best, and now he knew he was in the 33%, he didn’t want to be in the 0.06…

He was fine with not having you. He hated the thought of living his life with you only to lose you.

But finding you, not having you, and not risking losing you… Well… Maybe not having you was losing you anyway…

Alfred Lord Tennyson. He blinked. ‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. He’d never believed it. He’d seen Hotch’s heart break after Haley died and never wanted to put himself through that. Seen his mom retreat further into her own head after his dad had walked out… Surely it was better to love and continue to be loved forever, or never love and go through the pain of loss, than to be broken apart by one person’s rejection? Or maybe… maybe loving someone was worth the risk of pain, if it meant there were some moments of happiness too? Is that what people meant?

“Spencer?” Garcia’s concerned voice broke him from his thoughts, the analyst having returned from speaking to you, “You should talk to them.”

He snorted, making the team blink in surprise, “They wouldn’t hear me.”

“Someone needs to.” Hotch decided, “If not about the bond then about the case.”

“I’ll go.” Morgan offered.

~~~

“Your soulmate?” Bobby stared at you, “That skinny guy in the cardigan?”

You nodded, sitting at your desk, turning your attention to your emails to see if you’d had any research requests from the local universities, or any agents demanding something from you in the next hour that could take at least two days to find.

“I can see it.” James grinned, “Just curled up on a couch together with hot chocolates, reading books that haven’t been opened in years.”

“Stop it.” You ordered, “I don’t want a soulmate.”

“Why not, Y/N?” Bobby frowned, “I get your mom was a dick, but this guy is literally perfect for you, he’s not gonna dump you.”

“That’s what my dad always thought.” You huffed, replying to an inquiry from a student asking for copies of all your files on serial killers. Honestly, did they think you only had one sheet of paper per psycho?

“You’re not your parents.” James pointed out, “You’ll never know if you don’t go.”

“Do not quote All Star right now.” You warned with a glare.

He grinned cheekily, “Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb, Y/L/N.”

You shook your head, fighting off a smile, his inability to be serious helping to lighten your mood. “Thanks.”

“It’s what you pay me for.” He laughed.

“It’s really not.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Yeah?” Bobby called as you turned to your computer once again, not wanting to know if he had come to talk - if he had, there wouldn’t have been any use in you calling out anyway…

It wasn’t him.

“Can I talk to Y/L/N, please?” Morgan stood in the doorway, arms folded, every inch the serious agent.

You sighed heavily, standing from your desk, nodding for him to follow as you left the office, heading to a smaller room down the hall which housed your coffee machine and snacks. Lowering yourself onto the sofa, you couldn’t help but feel like a guilty criminal about to be interrogated as Morgan shut the door behind him.

“You wanna tell me why you ran?” He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the wall beside the door, well-practised at making himself look intimidating.

It wouldn’t work.

“I don’t see how that’s your business, Agent.”

“My best friend is your soulmate, I’d say that’s my business.”

You stared him down, “With respect, it’s not your relationship, and it has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

“It does when he can’t focus and do his job properly because he’s thinking about you.”

“That’s not my fault.” You shrugged, “I’m quite capable of never thinking about him again.”

“Well we both know that’s a lie.”

“Do we?” You sunk into the seat more, watching him, “You might be a profiler, Morgan, but nobody knows me better than I know myself. Nothing’s gonna change that, soulmate or not.”

He sighed, “Is it him?”

“What?”

“Is it ‘cause it’s Spencer?”

“Agent, I’ve never even seen him before today. Despite Penelope’s efforts, I’ve never met any of your team in the eight years I’ve worked here. It has nothing to do with who he is, because I know nothing about him except his name and job title.”

“But don’t you want to know?” He shook his head, unable to understand.

“Why?” You scoffed, “So I can uproot my whole life, make my every waking moment revolve around someone else, just to be heartbroken at the end of it?”

“Reid wouldn’t do that.” He assured you, “A soulmate who makes you change yourself isn’t a true soulmate.”

You laughed, “You’re either soulmates or you’re not, you can’t have a false positive with this. There are four million, eight hundred thousand people alive right now who will, or have rejected the stupid idea of fate. Get it into your head that I am one of them.”

He made to protest but you held up a hand, stopping him.

“I need you to understand one thing.”

He nodded, listening intently.

“I don’t care who he is, I don’t care what he does. If he’s the smartest person on the planet or dumber than a table leg. I’m not interested.”

You watched him, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he thought over what you said for a minute. “Okay.” He nodded.

“Thank you.” You stood up, heading to the door, “Now I’d quite like to get back to work.”

“About that,” he stopped you, “You walked out mid-briefing. You gotta come back upstairs with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part three coming soon!


	3. Prime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case gets a bit more complicated as Spencer and Y/N try to join a discussion they can’t fully hear.

Morgan led you into the room silently, his eyes the only ones that weren’t glued to you as you entered, retaking your place by the door. Reid looked like he wanted to say something, as ineffectual as you both knew it would be, and you fought with yourself, just moments away from bolting again if they kept looking at you.  
Thankfully, they were profilers, and seemed to notice your unease, so one by one they turned away, sitting back around the table to watch Garcia and Hotch continue to brief them on the case you’d found.  
The tech analyst was the last to look away, refusing to do so until you sent her a small smile, reassuring her that, yes, you were okay and no, she didn’t have to worry.  
As Hotch reiterated the small amount of background he’d already given, you found your gaze drifting from the screen towards Spencer. You’d heard of him before today, even without Garcia talking about her favourite team of people in an effort to make you meet them, even without the whispers of other Agents talking about the BAU.  
Doctor Spencer Reid was the only member of his team who didn’t submit electronic versions of all his paperwork.  
He was, in honesty, the only agent you knew of who didn’t.  
You felt sorry for James (sometimes) as he’d taken on the role of digitising the BAU’s cases from the early ‘00s - most of which had already been done at the time, but there was still a lot left over. Mainly Reid’s paperwork… His reports of cases were often a lot longer than other agents, simply because of the amount of detail he liked to include . Rather than just providing a blow by blow account of the cases, he seemed to enjoy writing out every little factoid he’d come across that held even the slightest relevance.  
On one notable occasion, James complained loudly that he didn’t need to know that 12% of goldfish were overfed, protesting that it had nothing to do with the case aside from the fact that the victim kept two as a pet - he certainly hadn’t needed to know they were called Tony and Steve, yet Reid had somehow found out, and thought it pertinent to his report.  
If you didn’t have such an aversion to the man now you knew he was your soulmate, you might have found it endearing. Alas, any good qualities he may have had were severely overshadowed by the whole fate and destiny bullshit.  
Which, you bit your lip, was a shame in some ways, as his slender frame, kind eyes, and awkward demeanour made the genius just your type.  
Shaking your head, you turned your thoughts back to the case - there were four murdered women who apparently needed your help to get justice… Though you still weren’t fully sure what you could do for them when all you had to offer was your ability to collect a few boxes of documents together.  
“Something about twenty four year old redheads provokes this unsub.” Agent Rossi frowned, looking at the photographs of the victims.  
“And something about February.” JJ agreed.  
“But ten years is one hell of a cooling off period,” Morgan frowned, “Especially when the bodies are found within twenty four hours of being taken.”  
“How is he still doing it?” You wondered, drawing the team’s attention, Spencer looking over a little later than everyone else as he realised you’d asked something. “Even if he started killing as a teenager… he’s in his fifties now at least. It’s kinda difficult to get a twenty-something to follow you if you’re not a similar age.”  
Hotch frowned, “What makes you think they went willingly?”  
Spencer’s eyes darted back over the photos quickly, and you saw him say something.  
“None.” Rossi confirmed with him. You sighed loudly.  
Garcia piped up, “Y/N made a point about the age of the unsub, then Spencer asked if there was evidence of restraints on the victims.”  
“That’s partly why I thought it was willing.” You nodded, glancing at Reid for a moment before turning back to Hotch, “And according to the ‘86 and ‘96 ME reports, there was no evidence of drugs in their systems.”  
He nodded at you, the team thinking over everything - you watched them silently, the small group clearly used to bouncing ideas off each other as they attempted to work out what was happening. You didn’t miss the curious glances they threw at you either, clearly trying to profile you and work out why you’d run from Reid. You were sure Morgan would give them all the lowdown later when you were finally allowed to leave the room.  
The sudden jerking of limbs pulled your attention back to Reid, his hands flailing about as his mouth moved a mile a minute. He’d clearly worked something out, either that or he was having a seizure…   
He fell silent after a moment, the team nodding in agreement with whatever he’d said when something occurred to you.  
“What if there’s two unsubs?” You directed the question to Hotch, “The ten years is some kind of ritualistic thing, and it’s getting passed down to another generation?”  
Garcia barely held back a delighted squeal.  
You frowned at her, confused. “What?”  
“You both suggested the same thing! It’s so cute.” She grinned, grimacing after a second, “Not what you’re suggesting, that - that’s icky, super gross, but…”  
“This is ridiculous!” You huffed, shaking your head, turning to leave. “Why am I even here?”  
“Agent Y/L/N,” Hotch stopped you, making you turn back, finding Reid similarly frustrated, also standing.  
“What?”  
“You say you aren’t soulmates but you just said the same thing at the same time.” Morgan informed you both.”  
“I never said that.” You snapped, seeing Reid’s mouth forming the same words. “I’m fully aware that we’re soulmates, Morgan. What I told you, is that I don’t care.” You stared at Reid, though your next words addressed the whole room: “If we’re suggesting the same thing, then there’s clearly no need for me to be here, so I might as well leave.”  
You watched his brow furrow, his eyes focused on your lips as he spoke. You couldn’t read lips, you’d never tried - lip reading and ASL had become common for people to learn in order to help them communicate with their soulmates before the first kiss, but that hadn’t ever been something you’d wanted, so that knowledge was lost on you.  
But you were pretty sure Reid was telling you to stay… or saying hey, or day…  
You blinked… Day… You’d been so focused on the victimology when you linked the cases together, and then on the month all the murders had happened, that you’d never taken any real notice of the specific dates. You rushed to the table, using Reid’s files as he stood out of your way, eyes flying over the information.  
“What day is it?” You frowned.  
“Thursday?” JJ offered.  
“The date…” You corrected yourself.  
“The 11th.” Rossi eyed you curiously.  
Your eyes widened, “1976, Kate Russell, missing on the 2nd. 1986, Aimee Curtis, missing the 3rd. ‘96, Diana Hill, missing the 5th. 2006, Veronica Travers on the 7th.”  
“What are you saying?” Morgan frowned.  
“It’s prime numbers.” You explained, staring at Hotch, “Which means if the pattern holds, the next victim will go missing from either Kentucky or Indianna today.”  
“Garcia,” Hotch prompted her, everything seeming much more urgent now.  
“Got it.” She nodded, hurrying from the room. With a nod from Hotch, you followed quickly.  
~~~  
“What did I miss?” Spencer frowned at the sudden flurry of activity.  
“There’s a pattern,” Morgan explained quickly, “Prime numbers.”  
His brow furrowed further, “That would mean-”  
“Exactly.” Rossi nodded, the profilers burying themselves into the files even further than they had been before.  
“Reid, can you work out if there’s a clear route the unsub is taking across the country? Or something linking the locations of the murders?” Hotch prompted him.  
Thankfully, he’d been reading up on paper towns and other hidden treats that could be found on maps, and already had a map of the country tucked in his messenger bag. Moving to the table at the side, he pulled out some markers, drawing on where the victims had been found and connecting the dots. There was no guarantee that there was a connection - the unsub had ten years to move from a to b. There was no telling whether he took the train, drove, flew, or any other method of transportation, but working out a clear direction might help to narrow down whether they should be looking in Indiana or Kentucky.  
“Are we thinking it’s random victims, or is he stalking them first?” Morgan frowned.  
“He has ten years to choose them.” Rossi pointed out - as if they needed the reminder - “Who’s to say he doesn’t get to know them for a few years? Might explain the lack of defensive wounds or signs of struggle.”  
“So he finds a victim, spends ten years getting to know them, then skips town - skips state - only to repeat the process again?” JJ suggested.  
“It’s possible.” Hotch nodded, “Rossi, what do you remember from the ‘86 case?”  
“Honestly, not much.” He shrugged, “It was just another case where the killer got away.”  
“Morgan, JJ, Reid, ‘06?”  
“Hotch, I barely remembered her name. I just know I took a few days afterwards to visit my family.” Morgan offered, frustrated, JJ similarly stuck for answers.  
The unit chief frowned, “There was very little evidence there, nor with the ‘96 case.”  
“Veronica Travers.” Spencer mumbled to himself, mind whirring as he looked up from the map. “Her mom said she didn’t like the idea of soulmates.”  
“What?” JJ blinked.  
Spencer faced them fully, “She said Veronica hated the thought that her future happiness was already dictated by the universe. That she wanted to… carve her own path.”  
“That could be the connection.” Rossi suggested, “Maybe the unsub got rejected by his soulmate and it sent him into a fifty year spiral?”  
“Actually, the number of rejected soulmates who kill the rejector is one in ten thousand, the rejectees who have a psychotic break of any kind usually end their own lives rather than turning murderous.” Spencer informed them, “The likelihood of someone being so incensed that they have to murder one person every ten years is…” he frowned, then blinked, “I’m not actually sure there’s been a similar case - certainly not with that motive.”  
“First time for everything.” Morgan grumbled.  
~~~  
“Oh my God…” Garcia stared wide eyed at one of her many screens as a name flashed up. “Oh my God.”  
“What is it?” You frowned, looking over her shoulder, “Is there another-?”  
“Lucinda Massey, Columbus Indianna.” She nodded at you, the both of you turning to rush through the corridors to tell the team as quickly as you could.  
The two of you burst through the doors, far too out of breath for such a short dash, and Penelope reiterated her findings.  
“Reported missing two hours ago.”  
Hotch’s jaw clenched, “Wheels up in 20.” He ordered, prompting the team to collect the files together, making you wince as they mixed up the cases, just putting everything into one single box. That would take some sorting.  
“Y/L/N,” Their stern leader turned to you, “I’d appreciate it if you would assist Garcia for the duration of this case.”  
You blinked, surprised - and you absolutely did not glance at Reid to see him similarly shocked - then nodded, moving out of the way of the door as Rossi, JJ, Morgan and Hotch left to grab their go-bags, Garcia trailing behind, leaving you and your soulmate alone with the files.  
You moved to the table, intending to re-sort the mass of paper quickly, spotting the form Hotch had signed at some point sitting to the side. You glanced up as Reid joined you, watching you as inconspicuously as he could (which wasn’t very much), the lanky genius helping you sort the papers in silence. Not that there was much point in trying to make conversation.  
That was until he pulled a small notepad from his messenger bag, a purple pen marking whatever page he was up to.  
You ignored whatever he was doing, managing to separate the four cases before he placed the notebook directly in front of you.  
Hi. I’m Doctor Spencer Reid.  
You glanced up at him, being greeted by an awkward wave and a shy smile. He offered you his pen.  
I know. You wrote. Simple. To the point.  
He took the book back.  
I know you don’t want a soulmate. I don’t know why, but Can you explain why? I have my own reservations, but I feel like we need to talk about it. Not that we CAN talk, but I’d just like to understand.  
Your mouth twitched upwards unconsciously. Reid was clearly an awkward man. Again, a quality which might once have been endearing, but was now just irritating.  
You should focus on the case first. Save the girl, then I’ll explain.  
Okay. Thank you.  
You nodded at him, replacing the files in the box and grabbing the form as he took the book back, sliding it into his bag before grabbing the box from the table, heading back into the bullpen.  
~~~  
You had been granted use of their coffee machine, saving you the bother of going all the way down to the basement just for another hit of caffeine, your pulse already racing ridiculously fast as you realised that - holy shit - you’d linked together these cases and now just in time your work might be enough to save someone’s life.  
The caffeine probably wasn’t good for your nerves, but you needed something to keep you going, the realisation that you were now a part of one of the cases you’d spent so much time in archiving - and apparently a useful part at that.  
Someone knocked on the door as you poured the liquid into your mug, making it how you like it, and you looked over as Rossi entered the small break room, dirty cup in hand, clearly wanting to clean it before the team left.  
Though you were pretty sure it was just an excuse to talk to you about Reid.  
“I have to ask,” He frowned at you, “How did you work it out so quickly? Possible multiple unsubs, prime numbers…? Profiling takes training.”  
You shrugged, “Just because I’m not a field agent doesn’t mean I don’t have training.”  
“But profiling?” He raised an eyebrow.  
“I’ve spent the last eight years as an archivist.” You started, “I’ve skim read almost every case you’ve ever worked on, and the ones when you were retired. I’ve done the same for every department. Murders, arsonists, peadophiles, rapists, drug gangs, human traffickers, terrorist groups, child sex rings…” You sighed heavily, “I have to know how to categorise each case, where it sits on which shelf, how to pull it up on a database… You tell me you want to know what happened on the 29th July 1990? Give me twenty minutes and I’ll have ten boxes of cases from across every department ready for you. I’m not a profiler, Agent Rossi, I don’t ever want to be… But nobody can spend 2,962 days doing my job without picking up on what makes people do the shit they do.”  
“2,962 days?”  
“Eight years and thirty nine days.” You nodded. “I’ve always been good with numbers and dates.”  
“Well, I for one am glad you found this case, and I’m sure the team are grateful that you’re helping out at this end.”  
“I don’t know how much use I’ll be.” You admitted, “But knowing there’s a woman out there right now… knowing what she’s probably going through… I’ll do what I can.”  
He smiled, squeezing your hand tightly, “That’s all we want.” He turning to leave, taking the still-dirty cup with him.  
“You’re not gonna ask?” You frowned.  
“Ask what?”  
“The soulmate thing?”  
He smiled kindly, “Your mother left when you were a child, and you’re scared to let yourself feel.” He profiled you with a shrug, “You’re not the only one who’s experienced it, and I know that nothing I say will change your minds.”  
He left the room, leaving you alone with the coffee machine. It wasn’t until you were sat beside Garcia in front of her screens, both nursing your mugs as she searched for every piece of information about Lucinda that she could find, and the team were up in the air on their way to Indiana that you realised he’d said minds not mind…  
And you hated the way your heart pounded at the realisation that Reid - that Spencer - was as terrified of you as you were of him.


	4. Priorities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case progresses and Spencer shows a bit of his dumbass side.

“So what do we think?” Morgan frowned, flicking through the case files for the umpteenth time. “The wounds show signs of overkill, frustration…”

“Could be overcompensating for something.” JJ suggested, “Definite sexual sadist though.”

“I’m not sure.” Spencer frowned, “The overkill and the lack of restraint suggests that the kills are personal somehow, and the bodies all have their arms over their chests which shows remorse.”

“They’re all wearing someone else’s clothes.” Rossi added, “But they’re all a similar style.”

“They all look like they’ve come out of the 70s.” Morgan realised, “What if the clothes belong to the same woman? The stressor?”

“It’s possible.” Hotch agreed, “Garcia, Y/L/N, do you have anything about the abductions themselves?”

You and Garcia were watched through the screen, the tech analyst scribbling what Reid had said quickly to keep you in the loop. She looked up at Hotch’s question, “It seems that they’re all taken from the north west of town, then dumped south east. They were all last seen in a parking lot, then appeared in alleys or rarely used roads…”

You frowned at that, “But how are they found so quickly?” You wondered, looking at the screen, “If they’re dumped in secluded areas, how can the unsubs be sure they’ll be found within the same day?”

“Garcia can you check the local records, see if anyone placed anonymous tips on the dumpsites?” Hotch wondered.

“Absolutely.” She nodded, fingers already hitting her keys.

“Let us know when you find something.” He ordered, cutting off the feed.

Spencer, thankfully able to read lips, turned his attention to the details of the dumpsites, forming several geographical profiles at once as he looked for a pattern that would help them find Lucinda - or at the very least locate potential dumpsites so they could catch the unsub. He looked up as Derek cleared his throat.

“What?”

“Pretty boy, you just found your soulmate and you’re acting like nothing’s changed.”

He frowned, “Nothing has changed.”

“That’s not exactly true, Spence.” JJ pointed out lightly,

“It’s hardly important right now, guys. We have a case and a missing woman to find.”

“We’re not gonna get there for an hour.” Morgan pointed out.

“All the more reason to come up with as much of a profile as we can now.” He frowned, doing his best to ignore his friends, incredibly thankful that Rossi and Hotch weren’t also involved.

“At least tell me you like them?” Derek pushed.

“I don’t know anything about them.”

“Yeah you do.” He shook his head, “C’mon, man. They’re pretty, love paperwork and math, that’s your kind of thing, right?”

Spencer tensed, “Those are arbitrary assumptions.”

“You’re not denying they’re pretty, Pretty Boy.”

“I don’t-” He huffed, “I-”

“Leave him be, Morgan.” Hotch came to the rescue, though nobody failed to notice the pink tint growing up the genius’ neck, spreading to the tips of his ears.

~~~

“Y/L/N?” Anderson poked his head round the door to Garcia’s Batcave twenty minutes after the team had left, “Hey, Flores mentioned you were up here.”

You and Garcia turned to him, both smiling, “Yeah,” you nodded, “I’m apparently useful.”

“You’re helping out with the redhead case?”

Garcia nodded, “Y/N made the connection!”

“Oh!”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised, Grant.” You drawled.

“No, I’m-” he cleared his throat, “It’s just odd, seeing you up here instead of… in the basement.”

“Just swapped one cave for another.”

“Hey!” Penelope protested.

“Compliment!” You assured her with a grin. “Did you need something from me, Grant?”

“Yeah, I um…” He frowned, “Those files you sent up last week…”

“What about them?”

“I may have… that is, I accidentally, sort of…” He winced, “Spilt coffee on them?”

You sighed, “Are they still legible?”

“Yeah. Just… stained.”

“Just finish up with them, then get them on James’ desk. He knows what to do with them, he’s done the same thing before.”

“Okay.” He nodded, “I uh, I also wondered if you… If you wanted to grab a drink after work, maybe?”

“We’re really busy!” Garcia almost shouted, jumping from her seat and ushering him from the room, “Out!”

As the door closed behind him, you sighed heavily, “I’d have said no, you know?”

“I do not know.” She countered, “Your entire love life makes no sense to me.”

“Penelope, please, I… I have my reasons, okay?”

“Oh, come on!” She whined, “Please, Y/N, you have to admit you think Spencer’s at least a little bit cute.” You fought the heat in your cheeks, but Garcia spotted it immediately, “I knew it!”

“Okay, he’s attractive.” You admitted. “If he wasn’t my soulmate, I might even be interested.”

“But why is that an obstacle? Seriously, Spencer would never hurt you.”

“If he wasn’t my soulmate there wouldn’t be an assumption that we’ll be together forever. There wouldn’t be an obligation to stay together even if we didn’t want to.” You explained, “If things didn’t work out it wouldn’t be seen as some cosmic failure or massive issue, it would just be two people who didn’t like each other as much as they thought.”

“But-”

“Please, just drop it.” You stopped her, “Whatever your opinion, my love life is not as important as Lucinda Massey right now.”

“You’re right. You’re right, sorry.”

“I told him we could talk after this was sorted.”

“Talk?” She grinned, “So you’re gonna kiss him?”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, turning to one of the many screens in the room to help dig up as much as you could about the latest victim, urging your body to quell the heat in your cheeks.

~~~

Hotch led the way into the Columbus PD precinct, shaking hands with the lead detective as she led them through the chaotic station towards a cleared out room at the back of the bullpen.

“You said on the phone this was an ongoing case?”

“We only just put the murders together ourselves, but yes, we believe this unsub - or pair of unsubs - has been active since the 1970s.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. Ms Massey was a real spark.”

“As far as we’re concerned, she’s still alive, Detective.” Hotch scolded, “We’ll be treating this as a very time sensitive kidnapping until a body shows up.”

“Right.” She nodded, “Of course. We’re at your disposal.”

“Thank you.” He nodded, dismissing her from the room. 

“We have approximately twelve hours and thirteen minutes to find her alive.” Spencer commented.

“Call Garcia, have her searching for people who moved to the area recently.”

“Recently?” He frowned.

“Since 2006.”

“That’s got to be thousands of names.” He frowned.

“Can you narrow down the area with the geogra-?”

He nodded. “They probably live in the north east of town.”

“From there we can see who fits the profile and was in the other states at the times of the other murders.” Rossi pointed out. “Single man, potentially rejected by a soulmate, weird fashion sense, has a fascination with numbers…”

Spencer blinked. Those traits could all describe him.

“... And probably has some anger-related petty crimes on record.” Hotch added, lip twitching upward ever so slightly.

~~~

“Pen, is there a way to find out if someone lived in the different cities at the time of each murder?”

“Of course!” She nodded, “It’ll take a while, but we can totally do that.”

“Great.” You smiled, “If we do that then the others can use the profile on our list, right?”

She grinned, “You wanna join the team, sweetie? You’ve got the smarts for it.”

“I’m happy with my boxes.” You shook your head, watching her typing away, fingers moving far faster than yours ever could. You focused on your own computer, still trawling for evidence of dumpsite tip offs, the task easier than any other Garcia could be given by the team.

“So there’s thousands of people who moved to Columbus in the last ten years.” She frowned, “But… if we narrow by age-”

“If there’s two unsubs, how do we know the older one isn’t dead?”

“Good point.” She huffed, “Alright, we narrow it down to single men.”

“That’s still a lot.”

“So we wait for the profile.” She explained, “So long as we make a start, we can narrow and narrow as much as possible when we know more.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Do you not get frustrated? Just sitting here, waiting to be told what to do, with no idea what else is going on? And with time differences and stuff…”

“Sometimes.” She admitted, “But that’s what coffee’s for. Speaking of, I’ll be right back!” She assured, “Gotta pee!”

“Okay.” You smiled, amused by her actions, turning back to watch her screens in awe. She could search every database on the planet with just a couple of keystrokes, and yet the Bureau’s own archives were so difficult to search through… You’d have to ask her for help designing a new system.

Her phone rang suddenly, making you jump, and you stared at it for a moment, listening for Penelope’s heels on the linoleum to signify her return. No such luck.

Hotch had asked you to stay with her for a reason, so, being the only one of the two of you there, you hit the answer button, “Garcia’s Tech Cave, Y/L/N speaking.”

There was no response.

“Hello?”

Still nothing.

~~~

466 miles away, Spencer was staring at his mobile, wondering what the hell was wrong with it, “Garcia?” He frowned, “Are you there?” He held it up to his ear, “Hello? Garcia?”

No response.

“Garcia?”

“Problem?” Rossi looked over.

“She answered the phone but I can’t hear her.” He frowned.

Rossi smiled to himself, “Pass it over.” Spencer handed him the phone with a frown. “Garcia?” He wondered.

~~~

“Shit!” You jumped, “Agent Rossi! Sorry! I uh… Sorry.”

“No problem,” He assured, you could hear the smirk in his voice, “Spencer was trying to get through.”

“That explains the quiet.” You mumbled, “Garcia stepped out, what can I do?”

“We need a list of any new residents in the last ten years in the north east area of town.”

“North east, okay.” You nodded, staring at Penelope’s keyboard, narrowing the search cautiously, not wanting to mess it up. “Any other parameters?”

“Possible petty crime record.”

“Okay.” You nodded, tapping the keys as Garcia reentered.

“What have I missed?” She asked as you moved out of her way. Rossi reiterated the search terms.

“We’ll have that to you faster than you can read the complete works of Shakespeare.” There was a pause, “That was not a challenge, Reid. PG out.” She ended the call.


	5. Cracked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case gets solved in a rush because the author felt bad about taking so long to write it

“Okay my fine furry friends, listen up!” Garcia greeted the team over the phone a few hours later. “We currently have twelve people who fit the parameters you gave me, and who lived in Illinois ten years ago. My dear Agent Y/L/N is looking further back right now to see if they were in Iowa before that. I was going to cut out some of the younger names but on the off chance that they had an older partner, I left them in.”

“Thanks, Garcia.” Hotch’s voice came through the line.

You watched silently as the techie started typing frantically, assuming that Spencer had asked something as she responded with “Yes! Okay, five names!” She spun her screen to face you, letting you see which names you could stop searching for more information on, and which ones needed more digging.

“Shit…” You frowned, getting a hit after a moment, the BAU still on the line as they theorised which of the five best fit their (still generic) profile. “Harry Morris.”

“What about him, Y/L/N?” Rossi wondered.

“He moved to Illinois in 1998, aged 19. Pretty quiet life until May ’05, when he got arrested for a DUI, then in December he quit his job and started applying for work in Columbus - but he didn’t actually move until September 2008. No employment records that whole time.”

“What happened before ’05?” Hotch asked.

Garcia pulled up more information, “He lived with his mother Maureen until she died of a heart attack, aged 47. A week before his DUI.” Another bout of silence from the phone, more typing from Garcia. “His mother lived in Iowa at the time of the previous murder.”

You pulled up more information on her. “Maureen Lloyd looks a lot like the other victims.”

“What are you thinking, Y/L/N?” Morgan prompted.

“Leave it with me.” You requested, something about the woman and her son not sitting right with you.

“Keep digging.” Hotch instructed, “Garcia, get me Morris’ current address-“

“Already sent.” She assured him, “There’s three properties all in the north east of town.”

~~~

Morgan hung up, patting Spencer on the back, jolting him out of his thoughts, “Sounds like your soulmate should come out of the basement more often.”

“Why?” He frowned, “Garcia would’ve narrowed it down eventually.”

“Well, yeah, but Y/N’s clearly helpful.”

“Why force them into a job they don’t want?”

“How’d you know they don’t want it?” Morgan shook his head.

“I thought you were a profiler.” Spencer grumbled, turning back to the images of the past victims on the evidence board, a new picture of a young Maureen Lloyd now beside them. “The only reason we’re here is because Y/N spotted a link between murders. A link we should’ve seen ourselves. If they weren’t in the ‘basement’ all the time, then nobody would be here and Lucinda would definitely be dead by the end of the day. Y/N didn’t want to be involved in the case any further that presenting it to us. If Hotch hadn’t told them to stay with Garcia, they would be back in the basement doing their job! Doing what they enjoy instead of having to research into some assholes lives just to work out if maybe - maybe - they’re our unsub. Forcing them to help with this case is not a reason to subject them to others!”

“Jeez, man.” Morgan stepped back a little, “I just meant they were doing a good job, is all. There’s no need to be so defensive.”

Spencer didn’t respond, just left the room to grab his kevlar from Hotch, knowing they’d be heading out soon.

~~~

“Looks like you were right.” Garcia grinned, “Maureen Lloyd has lived in every town at the time of every murder.”

“Great.” You sighed heavily, “That doesn’t mean that Harry is the unsub. He can’t have been before ’96 at least. Not unless he was a particularly violent seven year old.”

“Maybe his mom taught him?” She suggested with a shrug.

“What? Hey kid, this is how to tie your shoelaces, also here’s how to kidnap and murder someone and get away with it for decades?”

“Hardly the weirdest thing we’ve dealt with.” She shrugged again.

“I don’t know how you do it, Penny. I couldn’t do this every day.”

“But you look at everything? From every department?”

“And 90% of that stuff is several decades old, and already solved.” You pointed out, “It’s meditative.”

“What?”

“Just… going through a box of files, making sure it’s organised, categorising it properly, giving it its own space on a shelf. Everything has its own place and its own number, it’s… it’s nice. It’s systematic, it’s good.What you guys do every day is… chaotic at best.”

She was silent for a moment as she stared at you, then turned back to her screen with a grin, muttering “should’a known you two were soulmates.”

You spared her a glance, then turned back to the computer, something not quite sitting right with you about something.

~~~

They’d done it!

They arrived at Harry’s three addresses, almost at the exact same time. Reid and Rossi had burst into the only house he owned (the other two were abandoned warehouses, locations that seemed far more likely to hold a serial killer and his victim) to find him holding a bloody knife above the sink, about to wash away any evidence.

Which meant they’d been just a little too late to save Lucinda.

But hey, at least they’ve saved someone in the future??

Her body was nowhere to be found, which led them to believe that they would find her discarded somewhere in the next few hours (until Hotch called in on the radio to say he and Morgan had discovered her body across town).

They arrested him, dragged him back to the station, and were currently leaving him to sweat in an interview room while they worked out the best course of action.

“I still don’t get the motive.” You frowned, hoping the hastily set-up video call would shed some light. “And his mom? What’s she got to do with it? Was she also a killer, or have we missed someone who wanted to kill her and never got the chance?”

“That’s what we’re gonna find out, Angel Face.” Morgan assured you, earning an eye roll from you and - for some reason - a glare from Spencer.

“Well, my dears, while you were out G-Manning, Y/N and I were digging a little deeper into this sicko’s life.”

“What did you find?” Hotch frowned.

“His mom almost Safe Havened him when he was a week old, but, a witness said they saw her come back and pick him up after about five minutes.”

“That’s unusual.” Rossi frowned.

“And,” Garcia grinned, “we couldn’t find a birth certificate for a kid named Harry. And you know me, if I can’t find something that simple then it’s either some witness protection thing or it doesn’t exist, so-“ she gestured to you.

“That got me thinking,” you continued where she left off. “What if it wasn’t his mom who picked him up?”

“What do you mean?”

“They clearly have something against young redheaded women, so, what if whoever left him at the hospital was actually a victim? Turns out, Aimee Curtis had a son in 1979, but there’s no record of him after the birth.”

Rossi blinked, “So, what, you think Harry is Aimee’s son, not Maureen’s?”

“We can’t be sure.” Garcia admitted, “But it’s possible.”

“Then why wait so long between taking Harry and killing Aimee?” Morgan wondered.

You watched Spencer say something, Garcia scribbling it down for you quickly. It wasn’t the right date for the ritual, if it is a ritual - actually-

You smiled at her, letting her know she didn’t need to translate the rest of his ramble, though you knew he was still going, his mouth moving a mile a minute on the screen.

“Wait…” You frowned, turning away from the feed (though slowly enough to see Rossi’s relieved face as your movement stopped Spencer talking). “If the dates of the murders are based on specific numbers… Maybe everything else is too.”

“What do you mean?” Rossi asked.

“I need a pen.”

Garcia thrust one at you then, pink with a pompom, you paid it no mind, scrawling on the small pad of paper she also passed you.

“Y/L/N?” Morgan’s voice called.

“Give us a second.” Garcia requested, watching you work out whatever you were thinking about.

As Rossi whispered to him that you were working out something to do with dates, Spencer turned his attention to them himself, his mind whirring as he calculated.

It took you both about two minutes to come to the same conclusion.

“Happy primes.” You announced in unison (not that either of you could tell).

“What?” The BAU chorused.

“Y/L/N?” Hotch prompted, assuming you were less likely to start another ramble.

You smiled faintly at Spencer’s pout. “A number is happy when the sum of the square of its digits reduce down to either one or zero. If the number reduces to 4, 16, 20, 37, 42, 58, 89, or 145, then it’s unhappy because there’s no way to reduce further without looping a sequence of those numbers. It’s quite cool, actually. Then a happy prime is a number which is both happy and prime.” At their confused frowns, you added, “Please tell me you know what a prime number is?”

There was a chorus of yesses.

Hotch sighed, “How are they relevant to the murders?”

“That’s something you’ll have to ask your unsub.” You shrugged, “But, if you look at the dates that Harry and Maureen moved from state to state, they clearly have some significance.”

“Go on.” JJ prompted.

“The first five happy primes are 7, 13, 19, 23, and 31. Your unsubs moved to North Dakota seven months before the first murder, 13 months after it, then 19 months after the second muder, 23 after the third, and so on. If the pattern continued and you guys weren’t there, it’s likely that Harry would’ve stuck around in Indiana until September 2022.”

“Man, why is it always math?” Morgan groaned, “Can’t unsubs get obsessed with something simple like baseball, huh?”

Spencer said something that you thought looked like  _ actually _ , but Hotch spoke before he could continue.

“Reid, you lead? You understand the numbers better than the rest of us.”

Spencer nodded, then sent an awkward smile to you and Garcia before he left the room, Morgan at his heel.

~~~

“What does he sound like?” You wondered an hour or so later, having just got the news from a brief conversation with Morgan that Harry had confessed to the last two murders, and admitted that Maureen had committed the rest. Maureen had, apparently, been rejected by her soulmate on a date that happened to resonate with her resulting psychotic break, which had led to her obsession with dates and the need to murder other women who had been rejected and resembled herself. She was born on February 3rd, 1957 - the first four prime numbers 2, 3, 5, 7 obviously sticking with her throughout her life. Harry had been raised to believe in her psychosis, had thought it was normal, until Spencer had explained that it wasn’t, and would’ve been punched in the face had Morgan not burst in just in time to restrain him.

“Who? Spencer?”

“Mmm.”

Garcia’s eyes lit up, “Are you warming up to him?”

“No.” You rolled your eyes, “I’m just curious. He obviously sounds smart, but… I’m just interested in if his voice fits with the rest of him. Like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re bubbly and kind, and so’s your voice.”

“Thanks!” She grinned.

You continued, “So I’m just wondering if he sounds awkward and nervous.”

“Not always. Just around new people. Or lots of people. Or attractive people. Okay, so, yeah, often but not always.”

“Okay.” You nodded. “Makes sense.”

“You sound stubborn.” She quipped, smiling face giving away that her words weren’t meant to insult.

“Gee, thanks.” You shook your head, “Now the case is over, I’m going back to my basement. Tell them I look forward to reading their paperwork in a couple of years.”

“Will do.”


End file.
